


Peaceful Mornings

by endlesslabyrinth



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Coffee, Early Mornings, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon, dumb drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesslabyrinth/pseuds/endlesslabyrinth
Summary: Just a simple morning shared between the two boys.





	Peaceful Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Im making the transition from fanfic to ao3 (84 years late but im making it) so here's just a repost from my other account. This is the simplest drabble ever but its my favorite aspect of the boys relationship.

Mark poured himself the last of the coffee, still slouching a bit of warmth within it despite being left out for more than ten minutes in the dead-cold of December. He grabbed the two mugs and walked them over to Roger, who sat far too close to the cold windowsill. Roger looked up and grabbed the mug with a small, appreciative smile on his face. His hands hid in the sleeves of his oversized sweater, the layers of fabric engulfing his small frame.  
  
Roger hasn't said anything all morning, and there's an unbreakable silence that lingers in the loft because of it. But it isn't the silence that's oppressive, that holds lingering bitterness or passive-aggressiveness. Mark understands. He'd be the same way. And he isn't going to be the one to break that silence. That peacefulness.  
Mark slides himself into the couch cushions, cupping his coffee and bringing it to his mouth softly. He never knew how to feel about mornings like this. Where nothing was said. He knew the worst of everything was over. Hell, Roger hadn't so much as mentioned smack or April in over three weeks. Not that he'd mentioned much of anything in the past two weeks. But the stuff that he had has been good. Collins. Maureen. His guitar and his songs. The old lady that took her cat out on a leash every night at 7 o clock like clockwork. Things like that. Roger was happier, or at least more content. Less depressed.  
  
But Rogers recovery hadn't made him magically chatty. Mark wanted to prod and poke at Rogers brain, try to understand what was going on in there. But then he'd look over to his friend, sitting on the windowsill, hair messily covering his gaze out the window, and imagine the look of serene calmness that took over his features in moments like this.  
  
And Mark would bite his tongue. And let his mind wander to other things instead. He had to go to the grocery store later today and pick up more cereal, and maybe come apple juice if it was on sale. Then he'd promised Maureen he'd hang up some posters around their block. Oh, and then there was that tree that was sure to be covered in snow from last night that he'd get a really good shot from for-  
  
"New York is beautiful in the morning."  
  
And the spell is broken.  
  
"Yeah it is," Mark replied. "Peaceful."  
  
"Yeah. Peaceful" Roger agreed.  
  
The two men sipped their coffee.


End file.
